Last Have-nots Finally Are Haves

HURRICANE AFTERMATH

The Sweating Ends As Power Is Restored To A Long-suffering Few.

August 28, 2004|By Kate Santich, Sentinel Staff Writer

Their little peach-and-turquoise house is just a stone's throw from Kissimmee's Old Dixie Highway. But in the two weeks after Hurricane Charley knocked out all power to the city, Martha and Carlos Munoz felt like the world had forgotten them.

All around, they could hear air conditioners whirring to life. They could see the glow of porch lights. They knew civilization in all its Internet-linked, TV-transfixed glory existed beyond their property line. But they were not part of it.

"We've felt like we were on another planet," Martha Munoz said late Friday morning.

Although the Kissimmee Utility Authority had restored power to 99.9 percent of its 58,000 customers, the Munoz family -- Martha, Carlos and their two teenagers -- was still waiting. Every other utility company in Central Florida, which once had 877,000 households in darkness, had announced that power had been restored to all homes undamaged enough to receive it. But KUA was small, understaffed and overwhelmed. And theirs was the only utility to have to start from scratch -- all of its customers had lost their electricity.

Long after people in Orlando and Maitland and Windermere had gone back to their cool, connected lives, KUA labored on.

And as they did, Carlos and Martha Munoz joined the unfortunate few. They became the final one-tenth of 1 percent yet to be reconnected.

"It has been a nightmare," said Martha, 47. "We have been sleeping with every window open, and still there have been nights when I have to squirt myself with water."

Her only defense against the heat and stillness of the night had been a tiny window fan, run by a small, secondhand generator her brother-in-law bought at a pawnshop. She was tired, sticky, hungry and plagued by mounting piles of dirty laundry.

She had cooked eggs and hot dogs on an old, two-burner propane grill and showered in cold water, as often as three times a day, trying to keep cool.

She was about at the end of her rope.

She was also about to witness a small miracle.

By nightfall, the utility finally announced that all homes capable of receiving power had been connected. If there were more darkened homes out there, KUA said, it didn't know about them.

AN EXPENSIVE ORDEAL

On Thursday, the day KUA had set as its deadline to have everyone's power restored, Lisa Kinloch finally ran out of money. The mother of seven -- four of her own and three adopted from her sister -- had stayed in a $28-a-night motel seeking refuge from the heat. She couldn't pay for another night.

As it turned out, she didn't have to.

A few minutes past 4 p.m., a light blinked on in the little concrete-block cottage she shares with her fiance and the kids. One of the girls flopped down on the couch for a cool nap. Another jumped. Kinloch, 36, just smiled.

Yes, the food still in the refrigerator reeked. Sure, clothes wet from a flood were mildewed and ruined. But tonight she would sleep in her own bed in her own house with her very own air conditioning.

Across town, near the railroad tracks, retiree Alberta Tripodi was preparing to do the same. For three nights, she and her 75-year-old husband, Ted, had splurged for a hotel. For four nights, they had stayed with their daughter in Orlando. And for six nights before that, they had toughed it out at home.

Alberta had even gathered palm fronds to stick under an otherwise-useless electric grill and lit them afire, trying to make coffee.

"It took forever," she said.

LEFT OFF THE LIST

Late Wednesday night, KUA announced during its board meeting that it was nearing 99 percent completion -- with only 880 customers to go.

Gail Eck, secretary to the Kissimmee police chief, quickly called her husband at their home, a mere block away from the police station. Still no power, he said.

Eck stood to address the board. "I'm one of your 880," she began.

For 12 days, she had been awakened before dawn by the stifling heat. For 12 days, she had showered in cold water, a flashlight balanced on the top of the medicine cabinet, then trekked to the police station in the darkness, carrying her blow-dryer and pet bird, Hedwig.

Her home wasn't even on the list the utility had published of areas still without electricity.

But by the time Eck, 51, got home from the hearing Wednesday night, she noticed something she hadn't seen in a while -- the neighbor's porch lamp. It was like spotting a lighthouse beacon after being lost at sea.

"Hit those lights!" she yelled to her husband.

WORKERS STRUGGLE TO KEEP UP

Needless to say, finishing last did not endear KUA to its customers, who have complained loudly and angrily this week. But workers defended the utility, pointing out their small staff and, at least in the past two weeks, exceedingly long hours.